HARRY IN THE AIR
“Say, that was great!”
“How easy it seems, after all!”
“Well, I never thought I’d live to see a man fly like that!”
“The engine makes some noise, doesn’t it?”
These and numerous other comments went the rounds, as the crowd
gathered around the aviator and the flying machine. Among those present
were the fathers of the boys who owned the biplane, who had come to the
field not only to see Slosson make his initial flight but also to make
certain that their sons should not attempt to go up.
Many were the questions put to the aviator, and in the end he had to
give a regular lecture on the make-up of flying machines in general and
the biplane in particular.
“Flying machines at present are of three kinds,” he said. “The
monoplane, the biplane, and the triplane. The monoplane, or single deck
craft, is a swift machine and very good for racing, but it is not as
steady and reliable as a biplane. The triplane, or three-decker, is
but little used, for the reason that most manufacturers see but little
advantage in three planes over two.”
“But how do you get up into the air and how do you steer?” asked one of
the men present.
“The propeller acts on the air just as a boat propeller acts on the
water, and as soon as the force is strong enough the biplane is forced
forward over the ground. It has to have a smooth field for a start or
it can’t very well make a flight. When the forward motion is rapid
enough, the operator of the machine moves his elevation rudder, and the
air, striking against it, causes the biplane to run up on the current,
and the machine will continue to go up just as long as the motor keeps
going and the rudder is kept at an angle. When the operator is as high
in the air as he wishes to go, he straightens out the rudder, so that
it rests flat on the air.”
“How about when you want to come down?” asked another man.
“The easiest way to come down is to shut off the motor and glide, or
volplane, down,” answered the aviator. “If you want to make a quicker
landing, however, you can let the engine run for a bit and deflect the
rudder.”
“How about steering to the right or left?” asked Mr. Rush. “Do you do
that with the tail rudder?”
“Yes, by moving it just as you would the rudder of a ship.”
“Won’t steering around tilt the machine?” asked Mr. Darrow.
“It may, depending on the wind. If the biplane tilts to the right
or left, the operator of this particular machine can bring it to an
even keel by using the ailerons, or warping wings, at the far ends,
on either side. Ordinarily, as you can see, those wings stand out
straight, the wind rushing over and under them, as the biplane moves
along. Now you see, by using this lever, or that, I can warp one tip or
the other. When a tip is warped, or turned down, the air hits it, and
this causes that side of the biplane to rise. Of course it also makes
the biplane slue around, so that the operator, if he wants to keep to
his course, must overcome this movement by the use of the tail rudder.”
“Humph! that’s easy enough,” murmured one of the farmers who chanced to
be present.
“Flying would be quite easy, once a man knew how to manipulate his
machine, were it not for two things,” went on James Slosson. “Those two
things are, the wind and the soft spots, or holes, in the air currents.
Now you all know something about wind, but a birdman has to know a
great deal. He soon finds out that air moves in all sorts of currents,
just as a sea captain learns about the currents of water in the ocean.
He finds straight currents and curved currents, and currents that move
upward and currents that move downward. And then he finds what he calls
holes, where there doesn’t seem to be any current at all. The holes are
the worst of all, for when he is crossing one of these he doesn’t know
what sort of a current he is going to hit on the other side. He may
think the air is blowing one way when it is blowing the other, and he
must be prepared to make a lightning shift of his rudders or tips.”
“All biplanes are not like this one, are they?” asked Mr. Mason.
“Oh, no, different makers have various contrivances, some of them
patented. In some there are two sets of tips, and there are half a
dozen ideas for rudders being used, many machines having the elevation
control in front instead of behind. As you know, flying machines are of
such recent date that they are bound to make great changes in them in
the next few years.”
“What about the engine--how strong is that?” asked Mr. Rush.
“I think it is about fifty horse power.”
“Phew! And as small as that!”
“They have to be small and powerful for a flying machine. Some of the
aircraft carry engines of one hundred horse power. Why, with a person
on board this outfit will weigh eight or nine hundred pounds. It needs
some engine to lift that weight into the air.”
“This biplane is about thirty feet wide, isn’t it?” asked Mr. Westmore.
“Thirty-four feet at the top plane and six feet less at the bottom.”
“Well, boys, do you think you can learn?” asked Mr. Westmore, as he
looked at his sons.
“Sure!” cried Harry. “But, of course, it will take a little time,” he
added. “There is more about the running of it than I thought.”
“Slosson has agreed to take each of us up as a passenger first,” said
Joe. “He says that will give us a little confidence in the air, and
give us a chance to see just how he manages the machine.”
“A good idea,” said the flour and feed merchant. A little later he had
a private talk with the aviator and made him promise not to let any of
the lads go up alone until he thought it was absolutely safe. One thing
the man told him, comforted Mr. Westmore not a little.
“I’ve never known a beginner to meet with a serious accident,” said
James Slosson. “The accidents come mostly from aviators trying to do
daring stunts, for the benefit of the crowd. If the boys will keep
to plain sailing, when the weather is good, they ought to get along
finely.”
“I sincerely hope so,” answered Mr. Westmore.
It was not until two days later that James Slosson said he would take
the boys up, one after the other. Lots were drawn as to who should go
up first, and much to his delight, the choice fell upon Harry.
“Whoop! Me for the air!” he cried, throwing up his cap. “Here is where
Slosson and I take a little run to New York and Boston and back!”
“Humph! Why not take in San Francisco and China while you are at it?”
returned Fred.
“And South America and Hawaii,” added Bart. “Nothing like getting your
money’s worth,” and he grinned broadly.
“We’ll try a trip over the lake,” said the aviator. “And I want you to
have a boat handy, in case of accident.”
“We’ve got our rowboat,” said Joe.
“And Paul Shale is on hand with his uncle’s sloop,” added Link. “He
said he’d follow the biplane in the _Sprite_, so long as we kept over
the water. Of course, he can’t make such time as the biplane can make.”
“Say, if they can give a sloop a name, why can’t we name the A. A. A.?”
queried Harry.
“We can!” cried Fred.
“How will _American Amateur Adventurer_ do?” asked Matt, who was
present.
“Get out!” came from several of the others.
“We want a real nice name,” added Fred.
“Want something really sweet, Freddy dear?” went on Matt, in a childish
voice. “If you do, darling, call her the _Candy_.” And then he dodged,
as the stout youth threw a stick at him.
“The planes are so white, we might call her the _Dove_,” suggested Bart.
“‘Oh, fair Dove, oh, fond Dove!’” mimicked Matt. “‘Oh, would I could
fly to thy bosom, and’--wow! Let up, Joe!” he spluttered, as the other
youth caught him from behind and stuffed a handful of grass into his
mouth. “Nice way to treat a friend when he is using up all his brain
power to help you out of a hole!” he added, ruefully.
A dozen names were suggested, and finally Joe wrote the best of these
on slips of paper, which he shook up in a cap.
“Let me draw the name for you, will you?” asked Matt, eagerly.
“All right,” answered Harry. “Now draw a good one, Matt.”
The fun-loving youth turned away for a moment, as if to fix his shoe,
walking to a box near by to do this. Then he came back and thrust his
hand into the cap, which Joe held high in the air.
“I’ll allow Link the honor of reading the name I have picked out,” said
Matt, and extended a slip of paper that was between his fingers.
“All right, what is it?” cried the carpenter’s son, and took the slip
eagerly. “Why, I declare! Who put this in?” he demanded, looking around
in wonder.
“What is it, Link?”
“_The White Pancake!_”
“What’s that?”
“_The White Pancake?_ Who ever heard of a flying machine, or anything
else, being named that?” burst out Fred.
“It’s one of Matt’s jokes!” cried Joe. “He had that slip of paper in
his fingers all the time. Just wait till I catch you!” And he made
a dash for the joker; but Matt ran around the biplane and kept at a
distance.
“Anyway, she’s white and almost as flat as a pancake,” said he.
“Huh! Don’t you dare insult our flying machine!” roared Harry. “If you
do you’ll not ride in her.”
“Take it all back,” replied Matt, promptly, and made a most profound
bow.
“Bart, you do the drawing,” said Joe, and amid a general silence the
big youth did as requested.
“_Skylark_,” he read.
“That’s the name I picked out!” exclaimed Harry.
“The _Skylark_, eh?” said Joe. “That’s all right.”
“If only she flies like a skylark,” said Fred. “It’s a pretty name,
Harry.”
“All in favor of the name drawn please say aye!” cried Joe.
“Aye!” came from the crowd of owners, and Matt said aye, too.
“A good enough name for any aircraft,” was James Slosson’s comment.
“You ought to have a lot of fun in the _Skylark_. I know I’d have, if I
owned her.”
“Well, now she is named, supposing we go up?” said Harry, who was
impatient to have his first flight.
“I’ll give her a little tryout and then take you up,” answered the
aviator, and got aboard and in the air without further delay. The
tryout proved that the biplane was in good condition, and then he came
down and told Harry to take the seat beside him.
“And be sure to hold on good and tight,” he said. “I won’t strap you
in, because, in case of a fall, you might want to jump. But don’t let
go unless I tell you to.”
It must be admitted that the younger Westmore boy was just a bit
nervous as he took the seat assigned to him. It was one thing to talk
about flying and quite another to really make a flight.
“I wish you luck, Harry,” said his brother, earnestly.
“We all do,” added Fred.
Once more the propellers were started and James Slosson cried out to
“let her go!” With a rush and a roar the _Skylark_ gathered speed and
sped across the field. Then she slowly arose, heading in the direction
of Pine Lake. Soon the biplane was a full hundred feet in the air and
well out over the water.
“Hurrah!” cried Link and Fred. “Hurrah for Harry and his first trip
through the air!”
“And may it not prove to be his last!” added Bart.
Slowly the _Skylark_ sped onward, over the smooth water of the lake.
It went almost to the opposite shore, then made a wide turn to the
northward and came slowly towards Lakeport.
“She’s running all right,” remarked Joe. But hardly had he spoken
when the explosions of the engine suddenly ceased. Then the aircraft
commenced to settle down rapidly, as if about to sink into the bosom of
the lake!